The Worst Among Them All
by russian-winter
Summary: The problem with rich people is that they have too much money. The problem with brats is that they they think rules don´t aply to them. The problem with Draco Malfoy is that he is both


The Worst Among Them All  
  
One fine day, a fourth year fine day actually, while in transfigurations, Draco Malfoy decide that Crabbe and Goyle weren't good company.  
  
He was a bit startled by this sudden though; he had never seen things quite this way before. He spent the entire day trying to reason himself out of this new conclusions, and by the time dinner was done with he had a mighty headache, a bad mood and the conclusion still happily rotted into his core.  
  
He sat down in a random couch in the common room and prepared himself to sulk the evening away. Facing the wall, he started to do just that when an annoyed huff distracted him. He stared around the common room and found that he wasn't alone. Sulking, that is. Pansy, off by the fire and Blaise, pacing silently close to the hallway leading to the dorms seemed to be in similar state.  
  
Blaise saw him staring and raised an eyebrow. Draco raised his own as a way of answer and Blaise, both of his eyebrows standing at attention now, came closer to him. They were about to start a conversation when Pansy's aggravated growl to some fifth year no one startled them into momentary silence "back off Fido. What part of me thinking you are a disgusting wanker is not sinking in?". The common room went silent and the embarrassed boy flew out among collective snickers.  
  
Blaise and Draco looked at each other, evilly amused by the show, and as one gestured Pansy over. **********  
  
Some months later, he couldn't tell exactly how many, he received an owl from Pansy inviting him over to her Villa in Capri, Italy. Draco, not so sure he wanted to go but still certain that staying in the Manor would lead to no more fun than watching their green malfoyish grass grow, promptly took advantage of his father's absence and asked his mother's permission. She hesitated a bit, but after talking to Mrs. Parkinson (her sister and she would stay in the Villa with the children the entire time, so Narcissa ought not to worry about it) she had no qualms about letting him go. He was all packed and ready to go by seven that afternoon, and the next day he flooed over very early to find not only Pansy, but Blaise too, making him, all things considered, very pleased with his decision to accept the invitation.  
  
It turned out that Pansy's mother and aunt vigilance was quite a bit looser than any of the boys expected. They rarely even saw them around the house; they spent their days sleeping, shopping and socializing and had little time and interest in watching the youngster's actual behavior. And so, the three friends were left mostly to their own devices. It didn't take long until one of them though to explore the local club. After much arguing, they left that same night on an expedition, dressed to kill, trembling like leafs and trying desperately to seem older than they were.  
  
For some reason the guard let them in with little to no fuss.  
  
They came back every night after that, and once all was said and done, all three of them had received their first "actual" kiss.  
  
When they went back home, Mrs. Parkinson announced they had all behaved beautifully.  
  
So over the next holidays, in the final days of January, they asked permission for an outing to Paris, France, this time to the Malfoy's chalet there, and without adult supervision.  
  
The parents agreed reluctantly.  
  
They stayed there for two weeks. They went sightseeing and shopping, and visited any everyplace anyone could consider worthwhile. They got drunk for the first time, then, and ended skinny dipping in the huge pool at the back yard and ordering more pizza than an army of Weasleys could eat, much less three slender aristocrats.  
  
The night before the last one in Paris they went clubbing again. They picked a random local, and walked in with the confidence their earlier escapades gave them, reeking so much of money and power that no one dared to ask them any questions. Once inside, they discovered this local was huge; it had three dance floors, four bars and a cinema, located over the four floors of the building.  
  
Halfway through the night they got separated, their partners and mass of dancing bodies leading them in different directions.  
  
They met again in the front door at 6:30 in the morning, when the discotheque actually closed, kicking the last stubborn clients out. They went to have breakfast, looking at each other clearly with something to tell. They went into the small café they had came across on their first days in Paris and had quickly become their favorite restaurant.  
  
Once seated, Pansy breathlessly told them how she had danced with this guy that had finally dragged her to the back seats in the cinema: he had kissed her neck and palmed her breasts through her blouse, slipping a thigh between both of hers. Then, Draco told them about how he had danced with a boy and a girl at the same time, both sandwiching him between their bodies and grinding against him from all sides to some unimportant music.  
  
Then, they both looked at Blaise.  
  
The gypsy boy was quiet for a while until, softly, he told them of how he had lost his virginity that night-- hot and hurried against a small dark corner, holding her against the wall and covering her with his body between security shifts, no condoms, no kisses, no foreplay to talk about-- leaning back against the chair, the only evidence of his true feelings on the matter in his dilated pupils and the faint trembling of the cup of coffee he held.  
  
He didn't even know her name.  
  
They were silent for a while after this. Eventually they started laughing and joking about the night events.  
  
They finished their breakfast and headed home, to pack up and agree on the version of accounts each would give to their parents.  
  
Then they went to sleep.  
  
And so it began, their friendship tightening with new exploration, every forbidden escapade. Blaise made them promise the following trip, on a night too cold and windy to do anything but stay holed up in the house, sitting in the carpet of the great hall in front of the fire and a bottle of white wine, that there would be no misunderstandings among them, no jealously, no romance; nothing that could interfere with the incredible chemistry they had with one another. Between teases and laughter, both his companions agreed.  
  
A few days later, when the weather had gotten considerably better, they went out once again. And in a crazy chain of events Pansy and Draco lost their virginities.  
  
Draco and Blaise had sex with men the following holiday, and Pansy had her first lesbian experience shortly after.  
  
They grew increasingly bolder: they got into gothic clubs, punk clubs and then got closer to the lowest and most hidden part of the night, and black parties quickly became their favorites. They used toys and had them used on themselves, hung face down from ceilings, got strap marks in their backs and thighs and buttocks, had multiple partners in one night, got drunk and eventually high, participated in orgies and bent themselves double to the will of animals, they tried it all.  
  
And the last day before their vacations together ended, they went back to their accommodations and fabricated a plausible, tame story to give to the parents.  
  
If anyone noticed they were lying, no one commented on it.  
  
But as all good things come to an end, so did their fun. Quite spectacular actually, was the way things went from heaven to bad to utter hell.  
  
It all started summer before sixth year. They were in Camboriu, Brazil, a tropical island of warm sand and even warmer waters. It was a touristic land mass, full flown parties going on all day along, the entire duration of the year, exotic flowers and fruits surrounding them on every corner and the smell of the blue, blue sea carring over the sunny days.  
  
Then Draco got an owl from home.  
  
He read it after letting it sit the entire day in his night table, too lazy to pay it any mind and not at all eager to hear news from his family and home. He opened the envelope over their late dinner, the one they took just between sun bathing and primping for the festivities of the night, his companions shooting jokes over his head as his eyes roamed the crisp parchment in front of him.  
  
He didn't comment on it.  
  
In fact, besides his sudden aloofness and tightly clenched hands, he gave no outward sign that anything was wrong. So Pansy and Blaise, after shooting him a worried look and a brisk worded argument decided to let it slide, to let him come around on his own.  
  
They headed out. Draco disappeared almost immediately, which wasn't unusual at all. His friends went on with their fun and took this as a good sign.  
  
Except he didn't appear where they were supposed to meet before heading back, nor did he go back to the hotel on is own.  
  
They didn't see hide nor hair of him that day, or the next.  
  
By dawn the third day, when a hysterical Pansy was about to convince a terrified- into- stillness Blaise to call the police, he showed up, looking like crap and reeking of sex, alcohol and drugs. There was cum, grime and vomit staining his torn clothing liberally, the left side of his face was a big bruise and his hair was liberally encrusted with blood patches.  
  
His father had been incarcerated and it was unlikely he would leave Azkaban soon, if ever.  
  
After that they didn't leave the hotel but for short walks in the morning. They stayed abroad the designed time and then a bit longer, the official excuse being that there was nothing they could do back home, and this way they could leave a few worries behind. The truth was that quite a few of Draco's injuries were deep ones and hard to hide too, and they needed time to let them heal, least they arise inconvenient questions in their guardians' minds.  
  
They went crazy after that holiday, what little caution they had possessed thrown to the wind. They wanted to forget the horrors the war coming inminently over their world, and they couldn't help but take advantage of their parent's distraction to do the few things they hadn't dared before.  
  
They didn't notice, didn't know when it all stopped being a game and became dead serious.  
  
A year and a half later, and not quite knowing how, they found themselves neck deep in things they wanted no part in. When they finally became aware and tried to take reigns over things it was too late; they each had a little packet of strongly scented leaves and a small pipe of powder hidden deep within their backpacks, vanishing between classes to search for out of sight crooks in which to indulge had become routine.  
  
Pansy was the best off in the entire group, even if that wasn't saying much. She didn't want to, tried not to, she felt herself slipping away with it, the loss of control over her body, over her mind, over her very needs was not a pleasant sensation at all. She grew scared, terrified even, and would try to quit frequently, going without for hours and sometimes even days, sweating up a storm, shaking like a leaf, dragging herself miserably from class to class, throwing up in random corners at odd times and hallucinating in the hallways before she would give up, have some, have her body feel better and her heart just a bit heavier.  
  
Blaise worried and fussed quietly, tried to help Pansy even if he himself never tried to clean up, get out, knowing he couldn't without external help and unwilling to ask for it, least his secret be found out. He tried to keep the appearance of being in control, and sometimes succeded in fooling himself.  
  
It wasn't often, though.  
  
Draco never bothered himself over it.  
  
He didn't want to go without.  
  
And so, he didn't care if he, in fact couldn't. **********  
  
One morning, too early to be really said that the three friends had stayed up in the common room talking all night, going in circles over their problems and dreading the moment life would pass them the tab for their mistakes.  
  
They had been quiet for a while, staring at the fire, all through with their ritual rounds of shoulds and woulds and what if's when Blaise spoke up  
  
"I don't think we could fall any lower. I can't possibly see how we could"  
  
They stayed silent for a while, then they got up, went to shower and dress to their respective dormitories, and got together again to head off for breakfast.  
  
Unbeknown to them, the Death eaters, under Voldemort's orders, had surrounded the castle on every front that night, sealing and barricading all it's ways out. The professors had done the same with all the ways in, and so people were to be kept forcefully on either side of the walls from then on, until the situation changed or one of them gave in.  
  
That morning they came down to the gloomy expressions of some of the older students and the pale, horrified countenance of Hogwart's staff.  
  
They got the entire student body down from their dormitories, the prefects steering down the sleepy eyed students earlier than 8 even though it was Saturday, before they offered an explanation.  
  
When one came, all previously ignorant inhabitants of the castle wished they had remained so.  
  
They were locked in, the Dark Lord's forces surrounding them on every side. There was nothing to be done about it but wait for help and pray it didn't come too late.  
  
They didn't say it like that of course. Still, that was somehow what they all heard.  
  
A bleak silence settled over the usually boisterous mass of people, quite a few eyes shinning with tears, many shocked this had happened at all and many more looking at their Head the of House, imploring them for an instant solution or even a small assurance.  
  
But it didn't end there. After giving the attendants enough time to let the news sink in, Dumbledore continued his announcements, uncharacteristically serious and no trace of twinkles in his eyes. He gestured over quickly, and just as they had locked the doors to Hogwarts, the professors locked the door to the Great Hall, effectively trapping the students inside. Then the headmaster ensued to explain that, for the safety of all those involved, they would be searching the dorms to remove all that could be potentially harmful to anyone on the Castle or flat out against the rules.  
  
Some took this announcement calmly. Most panicked knowing there was no way to get out and hide their less savory or downright illegal possessions.  
  
And so, off went the adults, in stayed the children and they waited, for there was nothing else they could possibly do.  
  
The first to get back were professor Sprout and Vector, both having searched the Hufflepuff dorm rooms. They glared at a few students while going by, and levitated their purchases into the middle of the hall, depositing them in a pile before the Headmaster who, after a quick examination of it's contents, set it on fire.  
  
The academics started to dribble back in, and the students saw such a proceedings repeated many times over. Most identified their belongings in between the floating convoys, and watched them turn to ashes among other anonymous artifacts, no one trying to stop the making of the pyres and reclaim what was theirs. On and forth it went, the faculty magicking the smoke away, until there were but two teachers missing.  
  
They waited a long time. They were actually having lunch when they saw one of the two missing staff, professor Siniestra, stomp into the room, pale and hurried, to stop before Dumbledore and after a few urgent whispers, have him follow her out.  
  
He reappeared quite a few hours later, looking ashen and haggard. He stood before them all, stared at them for a long time and finally released them with a weak wave of his wrinkled hand, sitting down slowly, as if every year of his long life had added weight to his bones. Some ran to their rooms then, to do damage control or simply snoop around. Some strolled out calmly, faces twisted in expressions that conveyed the no good state of their wearers. Some more stayed behind to exchange gossip and fret together.  
  
Draco, Pansy and Blaise stood and made to leave quickly, the wait inside the hall one too long for their needs. But just as they were crossing the gates on their way out, they encountered Severus Snape's tall, foreboding figure by the doors, looking at them callously, tiredly and perhaps just a bit sorrowfully.  
  
They stood frozen in place and stared at him, not quite knowing what to do, exchanging uncertain glances and fidgeting uncomfortably.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, the professor gave them a quick once over, turned on his heel and proceeded on his way into the room.  
  
The moment his tenth step echoed in the cold stone floor, Draco turned around and broke into a run for the dungeons, both his companions following close by.  
  
They burst into their quarters despondent and close to tears, somehow feeling what had happened during the search and fearing it, the mix of emotions on their faces one strong enough to open a path for them among the throng of people that buzzed around the location, and even sufficient to convince the many who saw them that they didn't want to be near by if things indeed turned out badly for them. The three friends looked everywhere then, turned the perfectly undisturbed looking and rapidly clearing accommodations upside down in their hunt. First into their usual hiding places, common room, dorms and bathroom, then into their emergency hidden stacks; anywhere and everywhere they had ever left their precious substances and some places they hadn't.  
  
But no matter how, or where, or how hard they looked, they found nothing. Not a whisper of pastel colored dust, not a precious, fragrant leaf or root, not a dearly loved little pill, not even the testimony of the sweet, clear or murky, thin or thick liquid substances they had owned.  
  
Nothing.  
  
They had found and taken it all.  
  
It was late afternoon when they stopped searching, knees sore from so much stooping, back aching from crooking and stretching and holding them in odd angles, faces dusty and fingers throbbing from sticking them inside every little cranny, crevice and corner they could think of.  
  
It was well in the night before they could admit defeat, alone in the common room and sitting in front of the fire, Draco swearing viciously, breaking and battering every little thing at hand and hearing them tear and break with relish, Pansy slowly working herself into an hysterical fit, pacing around and mumbling to herself, her pupils growing and growing to cover her irises until her eyes were but black, and Blaise, sitting on an armchair and crying silently, his head sunk into the cushions in a vain, feeble attempt to hide from reality.  
  
They all fell asleep eventually, into the couches and over the rug, curled on little balls of misery and whimpering for the loss of something that by no means should have become so dear to them.  
  
When they woke up, next morning, all three of them were shaking subtly yet inescapably.  
  
It is here our story begins. 


End file.
